


Emily

by Mimikyute (pr0nz69)



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Angst, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, Loneliness, M/M, Snow, Subtle Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr0nz69/pseuds/Mimikyute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody, not even Break, Reim’s sure, wants to be alone and forgotten on the holiday.</p><p>[Reim/Break fluff, written for Pandora Hearts Secret Santa 2015!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breaks-candy-box](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=breaks-candy-box).



> (I apologize for the lame title.)
> 
> This was written for breaks-candy-box on Tumblr as a pinch-hit for the Pandora Hearts Secret Santa 2015, based on a prompt requesting Reim/Break Christmas fluff. I've never written Reim/Break or even really read any, so this was a fun challenge! :3

To be totally honest, the man frightened him at first, though he’ll never admit it -- especially not now. It’s easy to see why someone _would_ be frightened by him, too. A strange man suddenly appearing like that, in the guarded house of a duchess, with a bleeding eye socket and haunted countenance, would be enough to unsettle even the most stalwart of knights, let alone a mousy servant.

Reim was there when the man first appeared, too -- at least, he was among the first to discover him. And he _will_ admit to feeling the _tiniest_ bit uneasy at the surreality of it all. But with little Sharon there, so bold and wide-eyed with concern, he wouldn’t let it show. If for no other reason, he would be brave for her sake.

The man, they thought at first, was mute. He didn’t speak when the first guards on the scene questioned him, nor when physician inquired about his injuries. When Lady Shelly visited with him in private, she announced that he was, in fact, capable of speech. Still, nobody else was able to confirm it for themselves until some days later.

When he finally did speak, it was to formally introduce himself and to reveal that Lady Shelly had allowed him to stay at the Rainsworth manor indefinitely. He called himself Xerxes Break in the tentative sort of way a child tells a lie he is not too certain about, and Reim thought it an unusual name but didn’t question it. Interrogating Break, it was quickly learned, was a risky and usually unavailing endeavor. Though his mood was more often than not quiet and gloomy, his temper was volatile and easily triggered. Reim decided very early on, then, to avoid him whenever and wherever possible.

Break spent much of his time hidden away in the guest room Lady Shelly had designated for him. When he was seen about the manor, it was usually in the first floor north corridor, sitting in the bay window and watching the snowy landscape outside with a cold indifference. Sometimes, he had the bandages over his empty eye socket unraveled while he picked at the wound. The first time Reim saw him doing it, he instinctively moved to detain him but was slapped violently away. Lady Shelly appeared then and calmed him down, and it was the first time Reim saw a glimpse of peace on that disturbed man’s face. Though he resented him for hitting him, he was drawn to that look, so foreign from the Break he was used to seeing.

He wanted to see it again.

\---

It’s already been a year since Break dropped into their midst, and his progress is bumpy but ultimately fruitful. Though he’s by no means friendly, since becoming a servant of the Rainsworth dukedom at Lady Shelly’s request, he’s been at least mostly approachable. Reim’s even managed a few short conversations with him, generally about topics inconsequential to either of them, such as the weather or a holiday neither celebrates.

Reim is around the Rainsworth manor a lot, since his master still faithfully visits Lady Cheryl, so Break’s presence has become an absolute, something that can’t be avoided even if he’d rather have nothing to do with him. Even though the situation has become more bearable, there’s an awkwardness that arises every time they meet unexpectedly in the hall. Reim always feels obliged to say _something_ , usually becoming flustered and stammering out some nonsense he’s sure Break has no interest in hearing. And though Break is no longer openly hostile, Reim’s still afraid of irritating the man, if only because he would rather they remain on good terms while they’re in such close proximity.

He still thinks back on that gentleness he once observed in him, though. It seems that only Lady Shelly can coax him to smile -- and even that is just hearsay among the Rainsworth serving staff, for it seems nobody else has ever witnessed it. Reim can’t imagine what a smiling Break might look like. It doesn’t suit his stone-cold seriousness.

_It might be cute, though._

He blushes when he realizes what he’s just thought.

\---

The snow moves in quickly as the Day of Giving approaches. Reim finds himself spending more and more time at the Rainsworths’ as his master makes excuses that it’s too dangerous to drive the carriage back to the Barma manor in this kind of weather and then takes up temporary residence in one of the guest rooms. To everyone’s dismay, Lady Shelly’s health is declining, and Reim’s sure Lady Cheryl is glad for the extra company. Though Lady Shelly has always been sickly, it seems lately that she’s really taken a turn for the worse. There are whispers among the servants and nobles alike that she isn’t long for this world.

Surely, Break must know as well, though Reim finds it hard to tell when he already looks perpetually gloomy. Lady Shelly seems to be like a mother to him, and it was only through her influence that he began to open up at all. Will losing her shut him down completely?

Reim remembers when, as a child, his own mother’s health dwindled until she arrived, at last, at her untimely death. It had taken him months just to feel even a shred of happiness again, and even then, he’s certain he only recovered so well because of the love and support of the Barma staff and even Master himself.

Break, though, doesn’t have anyone outside of Lady Shelly, and perhaps little Sharon, but that child can’t possibly support him while also grieving for her own mother.

Will that leave Break truly alone?

\---

It’s a week before the Day of Giving when the snowstorm hits. Lady Cheryl has long accepted Duke Barma’s intrusions, and Reim is just coming back from bringing him his supper in the guest room when he pauses before the bay window in the north corridor. Break doesn’t sit there anymore, but the sill has already been stained with his image. Reim sees him there now, as if a ghost, sitting and picking at his empty eye socket...

Reim blinks. He really _does_ see him, albeit standing and with his hands shoved in his coat pocket. He’s out in the storm, barely visible with his white coat and hair set against the chunks of snow blowing across the yard and showering from the sky. Reim gives a start, then rushes to the nearest exit.

What is he _thinking_? He’ll die out there!

Reim unlocks the door and drags it open, and instantly, he’s buffeted by a gust of wind and snow. He steps tentatively out, rubs his glasses dry against his waistcoat, and calls out into the storm, “What are you doing out there? You’ll freeze!”

Break turns, slowly, but it’s nearly impossible to see his face. He doesn’t seem to say anything, though Reim’s not sure he could have heard it anyway over the howling of the wind.

“Come inside!” he yells next, and he’s desperate to heed his own advice; his arms move to wrap around his torso, and he hugs himself, trying to hold in as much body heat as he can. To his immense relief, Break slowly starts toward him, his face unreadable. Reim waits until he’s only a few feet away before slipping back in himself. Break closes and locks the door behind them.

“You shouldn’t go out dressed like that,” he says, though his words are more cold than kind. Reim flushes and fiddles with his glasses.

“Yes, well, you startled me just standing out there like a ghost,” he says, and for a split second, he’s sure he sees Break _flinch_. “It’s dangerous to be out in this weather.”

Break doesn’t respond to that, just brushes past him, dusting his shoulder with snow. Reim turns to watch him go and wonders why his his retreating back looks so lonely all of a sudden.

\---

It’s while Reim is lying in bed that night, wrapped in layers of blankets and listening to the wind and snow pound against his window, that he makes up his mind: He’s going to give Break a gift for the Day of Giving.

He’s embarrassed to have even come up with the idea. It’s not like they’re _friends_ , or even really casual acquaintances. But when he thinks about it, he realizes that, outside of lady Shelly, he just might be the closest thing to a friend that Break has. As far as Reim can see, none of the other servants make any effort to speak to him outside of work obligations. Such an existence must be terribly lonely. With Lady Shelly indisposed, Reim’s sure he’ll pass the holiday alone.

And nobody, not even Break, he’s sure, wants to be alone and forgotten on the holiday.

He remembers a gift he received from his mother one Day of Giving when he was just a boy. It was an odd little doll with green skin and yellow hair, rather eerie in design but strangely endearing in its crude, ugly way. For a boy to receive a doll as a present was an unusual thing on its own, but it was nothing to the story Mother delivered to him along with it.

“If a person who cares about you very much makes you a doll like this, then it will carry that person’s love and protection for as long as you live.”

She’d said it with eyes dimmed by her illness but with the strength and conviction Reim had always admired in her. Though he’d thought himself above fairytales and superstitions at that age, he found this one hard to resist. And while the other servants’ kids had mocked the doll, and him by extension, he’s always revered it.

The wind shrills louder, and Reim curls tighter into himself, pressing the doll close to his chest. Tomorrow, he decides, first thing in the morning, he’ll go to the tailor shop.

\---

It snows on the Day of Giving, albeit lightly and in a very pretty and picturesque sort of way. The Rainsworth manor is abuzz with activity: The chambermaids frantically tidy rooms for the guests arriving for the evening party, the valets bustle about to take care of their masters’ wardrobes, and the cooks have vanished entirely into the inferno of the kitchen. After receiving his breakfast, Duke Barma dismissed his servants to enjoy the day of festivities while he enjoys the private company of Lady Cheryl, and so Reim finds himself wandering the corridors without purpose or design, fretting over what the evening will bring for him.

He’s decided to do it before the party, during the calm before the storm of celebration. He’s certain he’ll be able to corner Break alone, solitary creature that he is, but he’s terrified at the prospect of approaching him and even more so at the thought of giving him _that_.

The doll is blue-skinned and yellow-haired and with the same exaggerated face that his own has. Reim doesn’t consider himself much of a tailor -- he learned a bit of sewing from helping his mother as a child -- but he’s quite pleased with how it came out, it being the product of the local tailor’s scrap fabric and only one short week of feverish cutting and stitching. Of course, the doll’s intended purpose makes him almost despise it in his anxiety, and he’s sure if he sees its face now, he might be sick.

The day passes agonizingly slowly for him, but at last, after four chimes of the bell, the manor seems to have finally let out a collected breath of relief and exhaustion. Reim doesn’t know where he’ll find Break, though he has an idea. As he makes his way to the north corridor, he has to consciously keep himself from taking a wrong turn and sabotaging his own progress.

The bay window is empty. Reim steps up to it and peers out. Though it’s completely dark outside, the gas lamps along the manor’s drive illuminate a solitary figure standing in the snow, his back to the window. Reim doesn’t need a closer look to know who it is. Taking a deep breath while rolling back his shoulders, he makes his way to the exit.

He came prepared for the cold this time in his overcoat and cloak, but soon his nose is red and runny anyway, and his breath fogs up his glasses. He makes his way through the snow over to Break, who has to hear him tromping around and sniffling but who doesn’t move anyway, at least not until Reim is only a foot away.

“Hey,” Reim says, suddenly blushing and hoping Break will mistake it for the cold. “Why are you out here all alone?”

It’s awkward small talk, but he’s trying to build himself up to his main purpose in being here. Break raises his eyebrows very slightly.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, making to turn away, but Reim surprises himself by reaching out and catching his arm.

“H-happy Day of Giving!” he blurts out, hastily releasing Break’s arm when the man gives him a one-eyed glare. “I-I-I have s-something f-for you!”

Break’s face softens, though only slightly. “I don’t need anything,” he says shortly, though he’s watching with mild interest as Reim fumbles around in his coat for the doll.

“Everyone should get a gift on the Day of Giving,” Reim mumbles, finally locating the doll. His heart is beating in his ears, loudly, and part of him urges himself to not bother, to flee now before he embarrasses himself.

 _No,_ he thinks, horrified by the thought. _I can’t do that. Not now. I can live with the embarrassment. But him... Can he keep going on like this, with hardly anyone to care about him?_

He presents the doll. Break stares.

“Th-this is for you,” Reim says, wanting to -- _needing_ to fill the silence stretching like a chasm between them. And then he starts rambling. “I-I made this. It-it’s, um, it’s a kind of doll that -- well, it’s rather foolish -- but my mother made one for me when I was a child, before she died -- and it’s supposed to offer you protection if the person who makes it really cares about you--”

He stops dead, realizing what he’s just inadvertently revealed. He’s about to apologize, claim that he was joking, and then make a mad dash for the manor and hope that Break doesn’t yell loud enough for anyone else to hear. But then he sees his face, and he feels his chest tighten.

Break’s eye has gone wide, and his cheeks are suddenly splashed red, almost glowing against his white skin. He pushes his lips together, and yet he’s unable to stop the two streaks of tears, one from under his bangs where Reim knows there’s no eye, that slide down his face and drip off his chin. With shaking hands, he accepts the doll from Reim’s numb hands and brings it close to his face to get a better look at it. Reim himself is stunned into silence.

Break doesn’t speak after that. He merely brushes past and makes for the north corridor’s door. Halfway there, though, he stops and turns, as if waiting for Reim to follow. Reim quickly stumbles after him, feeling anxious and giddy and a little bit fluttery all at once, then doubly so when he realizes that Break has tucked the doll snugly into the inner pocket of his coat.

It's stupid, maybe, and childish, for one nearly grown man to give to another a doll as a gift. Reim knows that, and yet he’s happy -- _so_ happy -- that his feelings, whatever they might be, have been successfully conveyed, at least even a little.

He thinks it would be nice if Break were to hang on to that doll for even just a little while longer.


End file.
